


The Night's and Sun's Memories

by AllisonDiamond



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Humor, Baby Fic, Desire, Drabble Collection, Drama & Romance, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Freedom, Friendship/Love, Hope, Inappropriate Humor, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mutually Unrequited, My First Work in This Fandom, Older Man/Younger Woman, Reading, Requited Love, Romance, Sexual Humor, Short & Sweet, Sleep, Step-parents, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Work In Progress, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonDiamond/pseuds/AllisonDiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, we all came together under the stars and moons.</p><p>Collection of ficlets, drabbles, of various characters, pairings, situations, of GOT. Requests are welcome, and I accept all pairings (not smut, maybe if a plot is involved, maybe). Pairings' tags will be added as the pairings are written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Man Knew: Jaqen and Arya

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones or any of it's characters.
> 
> A/N: I accept mostly all pairings, so request away, and if you want an alternative universe, please tell me. Thanks. Enjoy my writing if you can.

A girl was not ready to become nobody.

A man knew.

But a girl had determination, courage, rage, and a man wanted to see where those tiresome emotions will take a girl in her journey. Oh, a man always knew of a girl’s needs for revenge; it was what drawn a man to the girl. A man saw behind her revenge and ambitions, and knew that a girl can become an assassin, with a silver tongue that lashed out ice, and a sharp sense of reality and fiction.

A man will wait and wait until a girl stripped herself of Arya Stark’s memories.

A girl was growing deadly in her skills, and more poisonous as she slowly became a woman.

 


	2. Being There: Sansa and Tyrion

When the ice turned a smoldering white color, melting under the sun’s warmth, adding droplets of mist on Sansa’s glowing red hair; it was then she slipped her fingers between her lord husband’s ones. The small gesture — the trifling impact it may have— felt wondrous to her.

It was the first time she had discovered that hidden behind his dwarfism was a kind, gentle, loving, and not as half-hideous man as she had thought before. She always knew he was kind, or at the very least, he had always shown her kindness, and while she admired that quality of him; seeing him behind his dwarfism was unacceptable. For her, it had always been.

Yet, when the war came to a stop when fire melted ice; Sansa rejoined with Tyrion. After everything that they had been through, with the war for the iron throne, it was nice to experience joy however small that may be.

She felt a stirring Tyrion who was nestling on her laps and smiled.

“My lady,” Tyrion said, “Have I disturbed you?”

“Disturbed me, my lord?” She laughed; her eyes twinkling against the brightly colors of the flowers. “No. I’m the one who was staring at you. I’m sorry, my lord.”

Tyrion took her hands in his. “Enough with the formalities, Sansa, you can call me Tyrion. Oh, you were noticing my qualities,” he slowed down, adding a tinge of smugness in his voice, “the qualities that I’m best known for?”

Sansa covered her mouth with her hands, lowered her head down, and her cheeks reddened. “Oh, my lo — Tyrion, how can you say that vulgar statement!”

“Oh, I take it, you were admiring my view. I am the imp, but the imp has the best —“

“Don’t say that. That’s not appropriate here or anywhere where we can be seen.”

Tyrion glanced around. 

“Oh, Sansa, my dear, you need to appreciate the finer things in life. I need to teach you a few things about humor.”

_No, no, no_ , she spoke quietly to herself, _I don’t want your vulgar thoughts. Those thoughts are best suited for you._

Sansa braced back on the bark of the tree as a cool summer breeze rushed through her. It was then her lord husband decided to release himself from her grip, and kissed her cheeks lightly and sweetly. She smiled and relaxed under the warmth; how she missed it after the long winter.

 

 

 


	3. Flames and Ice: Sandor and Sansa

The burning flames. Veil of darkness. A wash of golden, red, and orange embers. Smell of death.

Fire. He hated fire, feared that flames will engulf him, scared that it will bring his death. His face, his once innocent face, had been lost ever since he was a lad to fire. The flames laughed at his screams: a young boy’s screams.

That was until she came into his life.

Sansa Stark, a lady, tortured victim of King Joffrey, wife of the imp, and his love.

She was ice: cold melting ice.

She quenched the flames, lightened the darkness to a color of white and blue, and got rid of the smell of death. She was his. Always had been his. The Hound knew this, but it would always remain a dream, as she was surrounded by the Lannisters. He wished he could take away from that wretched family. Oh, but she would cringe and scream at his face, he knew this much for sure.

_Fuck  the Lannisters._

_Fuck her thoughts of him._

_I will take her away from that wretched family. I’m her Hound, no, her Sandor._

  


	4. Fire and Ice: Jon and Daenerys

She breathed fire,

and he ice.

Together, they were a force,

to be feared.


	5. We Meet Again: Tyrion and Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This takes place during the first episode of season five (for Tyrion) and the last episode for season five (for Sansa). I don't know if this made any sense at all, but I felt like writing this.

 

The stars twinkled under the dark woods. 

The light from the stars cleared a pathway for Sansa. She followed the pathway, tried to suppress the pain from the twigs, rocks, and her bruised ankles. After that jump from the tower, she landed in the snow, but suffered from deadly frostbites. Theon and her decided to stick together, but soon, they parted ways. 

Not willingly, but because Theon went to gather firewoods, and never returned. She feared, oh so feared, that her lord husband, no, her bastard husband, caught up with Theon. And while she admired and was glad that Theon had help her escape, she still hated him. Even if Rickon and Bran were still alive. And she so much wanted to live. To never see the Boltons again.

Her legs ached again. Felt as if they were shoved through the burning flames. It was still nowhere near as what she had to go through with Ramsay Bolton.

Sansa wanted to sit, to relax, but she didn't dare do that, since Ramsay will be on her trails. Stopping for a brief second will give Ramsay all the time to capture her again, and she didn’t want to go through those awful torments again. So, she must keep moving, she decided. _Walk, walk, walk._

She walked and walked until her legs gave out of her. The woods grew dark around her until the light waned away, and there was nothing. Nothing at all but darkness.

“Sansa?”

That voice…she heard it before….it sounded like a Lannister. 

“…”

“Don’t talk. Drink.” Tyrion handed her a flask of what she believed was wine.

She happily obliged. The wine burned her throat as she carefully gulped down a mouthful. Tyrion eyed her warily. 

“My lord,” she called out, her voice broken and dry, “How did you find me?”

“Varys has birds everywhere. It wasn’t that hard to locate my lady wife.” He laughed. “Are you well, Sansa? You surely look like Ned Stark’s daughter now.”

“I’m not your wife, my lord. We never consummated our marriage.”

“Yes, of course. You avoided my question. Are you well, Sansa?” He took the flask from her, and drank the remaining content in a gulp. “That was wine at its best.”

She sighed. “Yes, very well, my lord.” Sansa tried to smile, to hide her pain, but she was a lady, and she was tired of showing weakness.

He looked at her, really looked at, and it was the first time that she saw that the imp was really concerned for her well-being. For once in her life, she was glad that someone cared about her. Next to Theon  and the few remaining friends she had in Winterfell.

“I don’t believe you. But Sansa, if you say you are well, I will ignore the other signs for now,” he said. “Come on, my lady, let’s go.” He offered her his hand.

Sansa looked at it and took it.

She felt safe again. But deep down, she knew that Ramsay will catch up with her.

 

 


	6. Lightness and Darkness: Jaime and Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really don't know how to write a fluffy piece with Jaime and Arya. I hoped this made some sense. 
> 
> Anyone has any requests? 
> 
> I might write a Jaime/Brienne of Tarth, or a Jorah/Dany next.

Jaime hated the darkness.

The darkness kissed his skin, and whispered false hopes in his ears. That everything will be fine. He knew that was never going to happen. This wasn’t how he imagined it; death. He always thought he would die as a courageous victor in a battle; a death he clearly earned. Yet, that didn’t happen.

Instead, he was dying from poison, and he had accepted it. But it was unfair; everything in his life was going so well. He had a wife whom he treasured very much; a wife who wasn’t afraid of challenging him. Children who accepted him in spite of everything he had done. 

_Myrcella had been the only one of his children who had accepted him as her father, but she had died. The same way he is dying._

He laughed. 

It was funny on how it all turned out. When Myrcella died that day, he wished he was the one that had been poisoned. In a way, a part of him broke that day, and forced him to face reality. Going back home to Cersei and telling her that he was a failure and that their daughter was dead, was more than he could handle. Instead, he sailed to the free cities, and found a job, where he was respected and loved for his skills, not his name or title.

Then he met her. Arya Stark. A nobody.

Jaime knew she wanted to kill him, but she claimed she was a nobody, and Arya Stark was dead. Of course, that was a lie, and afterwards, he found her in his bedroom with a needle-point sword, ready to cut his throat. But Arya didn’t kill…couldn’t kill him.

Arya was an excellent fighter, and more than once, had taken him down. He loved the challenge; loved to see her smile. 

She was broken as was him.

She was the dark: cold and emotionless.

He was the light: warm and broken.

When the dark met the light, they became one under the sun and the stars. Soul and body. Their children were golden like the Lannisters, and white snowflakes like the Starks.

Who would had thought that a Stark and Lannister would be united?

Not him for sure.

Nevertheless, Jaime was glad he found the mirror of himself.

“Don’t leave me. Stop with the weakness, Lannister.”

Her voice. Light and dark. Poison and danger. He will miss it.

“Lannister! Little Ned hadn’t seen his father yet. You can’t do this to him.”

He chuckled. His little wolf would never let him leave this world like that.

Because of her darkness, he needed to be there for her and their children, with his lightness to guide them to living in the shitty mess that the seven kingdoms were now. He forced himself to open his eyes; forced himself to be there for his little wolf a bit longer. She needed him and that was all the motivation he needed to live a bit longer.

 

 


	7. Of Roses and Wine: Tywin and Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Jennilynn411, I don't know if this was what you were expecting, but here's the one with Tywin and Sansa. (I've to admit I'm not a fan of these two; it's kind of ugh for me). That doesn't mean I didn't try my best to write this pairing for you. Enjoy!

 

“Sansa,” Tywin murmured as his finger trailed that smooth area on her thigh. “I think it’s fair to say your family isn’t going to pleased with our news, nor will they feel the need to welcome me into the family.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and pulled his hand away from her thigh, smoothing the wrinkles on her skirt. “You’re right. Oh, I hope my family understands. And you,” she stated firmly, pointing to him, “Don’t act so smug toward my family, and don’t argue with them.”

“Luv,” he started, sliding his hands into his trousers' pockets, “This is Ned and Catelyn Stark. The Starks and the Lannisters have never had a good relationship. You can’t really expect your family and I to start off on good terms. And, pray tell, how am I supposed to act around them?”

Sansa sighed. This was expected from Tywin. He was so set in his ways that he would never act like the perfect gentleman around her family, but she had hoped he would at the least tried. It was his smugness, and his firm belief in maintaining his family name that attracted her to him.

She had been an interim, fresh out of college, when she first met him. At first, she struggled with her attraction to him. There was something about his age — that gray mixed with black hair of his — his voice of roses and spices — that gave her tingles. But the age difference and their, oh, so, very different style of living, were not easy to get through. Sansa thought she was far too young for him. He, on the other hand, never really got over Joanna, his late wife. Somewhere when they first started dating, she had thought that he was always comparing her to his late wife. As their relationship progressed, she learned he loved her for her, and she loved him for all of his amazing qualities.

Then one night, they went to a bar, and ended sleeping together. They had slept together before. This time, though, they hadn’t use any form of protection, and it scared her of the possibilities of having a kid.

_It was the roses and wine._

But when she broke the news to Tywin, he was strangely calm and reassuring, given the situation. And that was all it took for her to give this baby a chance. She might had been only twenty five at the time, a bit young for a baby, but she was ready to take that next step in her life.

Looking at Tywin, she decided it was going to be all right.

“Please do this for me. I don’t want my family flippin’ out more than they should be.” She looked at him with a misty look in her eyes. “Please try to be like Jaime. He’s well-liked,” she pleaded softly, rubbing his face.

Tywin looked at her and whispered softly, “I’ll try to behave accordingly to the Starks’ beliefs. Okay, luv?”

“Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

“Are you ready? Should I have the honors of ringing the bell?”

Sansa chuckled softly.

“No, I think I should do it. I don’t want them to be flippin’ out that soon.”

Tywin laughed, and moved a few steps from Sansa.

She pressed the doorbell twice, and waited anxiously, twirling her toes in the thick black mat. Wearing those plums and doing that wasn’t such a good idea. Her feet was hurting so badly.

Arya opened the door.

“Sansa? What are you doing here?”

_Let me in, you little twerp,_ Sansa thought, forcing a smile across her lips. _Is that my dress? The one I made?_ She looked at the cloth wrapped against Arya’s arm. _It’s mine. That little twerp used my dress as a bandage! For one of her stupid practices with Jon._

_Be calm,_ she warned herself, _calmness is good._

“I ’ve missed you,” she said, hugging Arya as she tightly as she could. _That would teach the little twerp to use my dress as a bandage._ “Where’s mum and dad?”

Arya looked at her, holding back a snicker. “What have you done?”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I haven’t done anything. Can’t I visit my parents? By the way, why are you here?”

“Oh, Gendry and I broke up. I needed a place to stay.” She braced herself at the edge of the door. “Did I mention I got fired?”

“Really, Arya, don’t you ever learn? You’ve to be nice to your boss. It’s no wonder Gendry broke up with you.”

“Hey, my boss was an arsehole!” she defended herself. “Who cares what happened between Gendry and me? Why are you here? Is that Tywin Lannister? Oh my god, I never knew you liked them that old.” She started laughing.

Sansa suppressed the urge to hit her. The little twerp annoyed her so.

“Arya!”

“Mum, Sansa’s here! And Ty—“

Sansa wrapped a hand around Arya’s mouth, urging herself to keep quiet.

Her mum arrived at the doorway, a bowl of chocolate batter in her hands.

“Sansa, dear, it’s so good to see you. You’ve grown so much since I’ve seen you,” Catelyn said, her voice breaking down. She dropped the batter and embraced Sansa in a very tight hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“It’s good to see you too, mum. Is dad home?”

Before her mum saw Tywin and flipped out, Sansa signaled Tywin to appear. He held the roses in one hand, and the wine in the other. He was smiling, that ‘oh, I’m ready’ kind of smile.

“Sansa, dear, what’s that man doing here?” Her mum eyed Tywin warily. 

“Mum, I…we have something to tell you.”

“Ned! Can you please come here?”

Her dad soon arrived in the doorway.

“Sansa. Come on in, honey.” Her dad failed to see Tywin who was still a couple steps behind Sansa.

Sansa was glad to be in the house; the sun was making her blouse sticky. Once, she settled in, and Tywin had followed her inside, she made sure her parents were comfortable before breaking the news to them.

“Mum, dad, Arya,” she began, “I’m just going to get to it. I’m having a baby. No, we’re having a baby.” She wrapped her hand around Tywin’s hand.

“A baby? You’re gonna be a mother?” Arya laughed, and pointed at Sansa and Tywin. “With him? Oh, this should be fun. I’m gonna tell Gendry about this. Just wait until he hears this. He’ll be roaring with laughter like me.”

“Arya, be nice to your sister,” Ned warned her. “Sansa, please tell me, this is a joke.”

“Dad, we’re having a baby, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“How could you, Tywin? You were her boss. You took advantage of my innocent daughter!” Catelyn was ready to fling herself at Tywin, but Ned held her back.

“Sansa,” Ned said softly, “Did he force you to do anything that you didn’t want to do?”

“No, dad, we fell in love. Dad, I tried to stop it. But I love him, dad. You understand?” She looked at him earnestly, trying to snuck the bottle from Tywin, so that she could throw it at Arya who was laughing so loud that she could swear it would bring the house down.

Silence befalled. 

“ Wine?” Tywin broke the silence, and went to Catelyn’s side. “Roses for the lady. Do you accept?”

Catelyn snatched the roses away, throwing them on the floor, and stomping on them. “You bastard. Doing this to our daughter. How can you live with yourself? She’s younger than your own bloody children. And you slept with her!”

“Catelyn,” Ned said, wrapping a hand around hers. “Sansa loves this man. I don’t like him too. But we can pretend to be happy because of our little girl, can’t we?”

Catelyn tried to relax, tried so hard, but instead, she broke free from Ned’s grasp, and dumped the batter on Tywin’s head.

“I’m sorry.”

S ansa hoped her apology was going to be enough. She wiped some of the batter off his shirt. Strangely, he laughed, slipping a hand around Sansa’s waist, and kissing her, leaving her covered all in chocolate batter.

“You’re only making my mum madder,” she murmured against his lips, “And my dad, too. Not Arya, though, she’s having a good laugh from this. She’s going to take pics of us, and post it online.”

Tywin chuckled. “I don’t give a shit what your family thinks of us. Let them believe what they may. I love you and you love me. Isn't that enough?”

Sansa laughed. Her mum was ready to attack again, but her dad took her to the kitchen, pulling a laughing Arya in the kitchen too, who pulled out her phone, and snapped a few pictures of them kissing while covered in chocolate batter.

This was exactly how she pictured it. 

_Oh, what in the hells, was going to happen next?_

 

 


	8. Small Delights: Sansa and Oberyn

_To be safe, she must learn from him, his every little tricks and techniques._

She studied his walks and his talks. From the twinkles in his eyes to the scars inside of him. To the breaths he took and the kisses he gave.

When he held her close to him, she melted like the ice she was, and became something warmer, more exotic. His lips pressed against hers gave her a sense as if she were dancing with the gods. Every one of his touches made the lady in her disappear, bringing out the wolf. Something that Sansa never thought would happen, but Oberyn was different, and she loved what he did to her. He allowed her to be the wolf she was meant to be. And he knew how to pleasure her.

He was a great teacher, and she was eager to learn more from him.


	9. Let the Cold In: Aegon and Sansa

It was over.

Sansa laughed. She had survived the game for the iron throne while those the closest to hers hadn’t. 

She hadn’t seen Arya, Bran, Rickon, or even Jon after their very short and brief reunion. How she missed them. Arya and her sharp tongue, and her need to challenge authority. Bran and his adventurous spirit; his need to climb and be one with the animals. Rickon with his sweet, oh, so, sweet view on the kingdoms still. Oh, and Jon, with his rather chilling warnings about winter, and about what was yet to come.

She was glad to be with them when ice had clashed with fire.

Sansa had watched Winterfell burn, heard the screams of the Northerners, witnessed the ice and fire capturing her dear friends, and she tried to save them, tried so hard. But she couldn’t. Aegon had pulled her away.

* * *

 

_“The north is my home,” she whispered to him, breathing in the flames, staring in the iciness of death in front of her. “I belong here. I need to save my people. The Starks had long abandoned their people for surivial. I’m their last hope.”_

_He pulled her up. “My lady, we need to go. Is it fair for the Northerns that survive this to be without their Queen? I think not.” His violet irises reflected visions of what may happen after the war. The kingdoms in chaos. The smell of fresh burning skin. The frozen bodies. “My lady, do come with me.”_

_I must do this, she thought, remembering the painful memories of her time in Winterfell and King’s Landing. I’m sorry._

_“Yes, if I must do this, my lord, then I shall. My lord, may I ask a favor of you?” she asked, the blue in her eyes turning soft and afraid._

_“Whatever you demand, my lady, I am here to serve you.”_

_“Thank you, my lord.” She glanced over once more at the horrors that had befallen Winterfell. “Promise me, my lord, that the Northerns will be remembered for all they had done for me and my family.”_

_“And they will be, my lady.”_

_His voice, both soft and harsh, thawed the coldness inside her, and got rid of the warmness inside of her. She felt like Sansa Stark again for a very long time._

* * *

 

Her beloved home may be an unpleasant site now, but she believed she and her siblings could rebuild Winterfell again. Sansa felt a strong connection to Arya, Bran, Rickon, and even Jon, and she knew they were still alive. 

_Aegon can help too,_ she thought _,_ and smiled at the pleasant thought.

 

 

 


	10. Hope: Jorah and Dany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is mostly about Jorah. No romance is involved.

 

 

The faded paint rolled off easily as Jorah brushed it over with a darker shade of brown. When the paint had splashed all over his face and hands, he laughed it off. It had been a long time since he enjoyed the simpler things of life; he had been busy with business meetings, avoiding facing his ex-wife after that incident. _She had it coming with her stupid behavior._ The lightness of his words were harsh and dark in the harden heart of his wife. Or that what she had him believed. 

_Dany,_ he thought, _she hated her._ Ever since Dany started working with Jorah, Lynesse just snapped. _Ha,_ he dipped the brush in the paint can _, Lynesse was always jealous of other women. Dany was no exception. Ha._

And when he told her that he would like to help Dany run her dad’s company; Lynesse went mad with anger. What really angered her was that Jorah packed his bags and sold his company. Now, he was jobless and broke, living in a dump of an apartment in the, oh, so, very, expensive city of Manhattan. Dany, though, had become the face of the business world. 

He was so proud of her. 

She was born to be a leader.

* * *

How he loved Dany. Maybe that was the reason Lynesse left him. She was everything he ever wanted or wished to see in a woman. Smart, cunning, realistic, honorable, loyal, and best of all, she had heart. In a way, Dany was like him, but, only better.

As he continued painting, his boots felt heavier, laden with something heavier than dirt, but lighter than flakes of the wallpaper. _Like small pebbles._ No. _Papers, maybe._ Yes, that was more like it.

He lifted his leg up, and pulled the scrunched up paper carefully away.

After, he smoothed it out, cleaned his hands on his pants, he stared at the words, and tried to take it all in.

_Jorah!_

_The time to break old traditions has come. The Mormonts and Targaryens has always been good friends, but to end the cycle of useless chicanery and coercion when it comes to business, has spoiled the friendship between our family. It is time to end this. I will snap this business rivalry in half, but I need your help to do that. Will you be willing to help me as my advisor? Your words of wisdom is very much needed._

_Your friend always,_

_Dany._

Jorah rubbed his chin in a thoughtful and amused gesture. _Dany wants me to assist her in settling this feud? Oh, I don’t know about ending the feud, but I’ll do anything for her._

_And maybe,_ he hoped, _she will be the other broken shelf to mine._

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Connections: Sansa and Stannis (Sansa’s friendship with Shireen)

“Do you think she will like it?” Sansa picked up the scattered pages, stitched them carefully on in a decorative fashion of fairies and dragons, and placed the bow on the white cover. “I need to connect with her. Shireen has been isolated and distant from me. You know, she reads too much.”

Stannis rested a shoulder on her back. “Sans, she will treasure this gift.” He looked into her eyes; his expression softening. “You have to understand, her desire for reading is her way of coping with the hardship in her life. Melisandre did a number on her.”

“No kid should go through that. Losing her mum to suicide, and then having an insane step-mum trying to sacrifice her for the ‘God of Light.’ I want to help her, Stannis, but she won’t let me in.”

“Sans, it’ll take time. You’ve to let her be for now.”

He squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m the third mum she has to go through in five years. It must be tough on her.” She closed her eyes, and chuckled lightly. “I just hope we can connect.”

“In time, the two of you, will be good friends. Shireen is a sweet girl, but all of that sweetest has been taken away from her. I wasn’t a good father to her. Too ignorant of what has been going in my own home.”

“Stannis,” she warned; her voice stern and soft, “it isn’t your fault. Melisandre believed so strongly in the “God of Light’ that the line between the real word and the fake one faded away.”

“Yes. Either way, you and Shireen will get along just fine. Go and have fun of that picnic date.”

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

“You girls need to be away from an old boring man like me.”

She collected the book, nestled it between her arm, and just laughed. “But I love this boring old man.”

“I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Well, going to my fashion gala would be nice.”

Stannis laughed; a deep husky sound. “No. I rather do something else.”

She rolled her eyes. “I better go now.”

* * *

Sansa gripped the steering wheel tightly; her hand shaking from anxiety. She kept her eyes on the road, but her ears opened to any words Shireen might say.

“So,” Sansa began, “Read any good books?”

“Dragons and Magic,” Shireen said; her face lit up. “It tells a tale of a lost tribe of dragons that helped the magical world defeating the Tyrant Queen.”

“Ooh, magic and dragons! Cool.” Sansa stepped on the brake when she realized she came across a ‘stop’ signal. “Do you believe in magic?”

“Yeah. Magic’s real.”

“You wanna hear a tale?”

Shireen nodded.

“The Starks, my ancestors, had dire wolves. Huge wolves with the softest and whitest furs, but with deadly bites. Softies on the inside, though.” She paused when the light said to go. She changed her voice to a softer yet spookier tone. “These softies dire wolves helped the Stark defeated zombie-like creatures. Eyes blue like ice. Hair white as snow. And they were so beautiful. Like heavenly creatures. But so deadly. So, when these creatures clashed with the kingdoms, the dire wolves weren’t enough to defeat them alone. The Starks needed help. They gathered help from all across the kingdoms, and with the help of dragons, they had a chance of defeating these beautiful creatures. Gorgeous fire-breathing dragons.”

“I read about that. It’s a myth,” Shireen stated, “Dad said it was.”

“Your dad jokes about things like this.”

“But dad —“

Sansa halted to a stop when they reached the park. She parked in a corner between the flowers and the grass. She pulled out the book from her purse, and handed it to Shireen.

“This will explain everything,” Sansa told her; winking.

“Is this mine?”

“Yes.” Sansa smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Shireen let out, flipping through the pages, with eyes not straying away from the words.

Sansa relaxed against the leather cushion of her carseat — taking a quick glimpse of Shireen as she read — and smiled. 

_This is how I will help Shireen,_ she thought. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. A Choice: Theon and Sansa

The room had a smell — a strong scent of rotten flesh and filth — it revolted him.

Theon held back his breath, forced his eyes to take in all of Winterfell; to see how broken and dark it had become. The gods had long stopped singing their melodies of joy and freedom. 

Winter blew over Winterfell in an erie song of despair; the villagers were dead, or barely managing to survive. 

_I brought this on Winterfell. I abandoned Robb when he needed my support as a friend. If I had helped Robb earlier….this destruction will….not have happened._

He lowered his head down, and felt a soft yet harsh hand on his shoulder. The hand was gloved, he noticed, in a worn-out material of scraps. Yellow. The gloves were yellow, the darkest shade of yellow he had seen, a mixture of dirt and hay. 

_Sansa,_ he thought, _the hand belonged to Sansa._

Her hand — it was comforting — it had been a long time since he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder. It had been very long since he felt anything. 

He struggled with his decisions and the consequences on them. Each night, he dreamed of the murders; how he wasn’t there to prevent them. If he had been a better friend to Robb, then he would have convinced Robb to be wiser in keeping his word. Instead, he was trying to please his lord father, and he should regret this, but he wanted to be a Greyjoy again. So badly it failed to make him see sense.

_Hah._

This — whatever it was — he deserved.

He burned two boys alive, and would have done the same if he had found Bran and Rickon. 

He was a monster.

“Theon,” Sansa called out in a harsh tone, but it sounded very lovely, distracting him away from his thoughts, “I need you to answer me. Why did you abandon Robb? Why did you try to kill Bran and Rickon?”

“I was taken from my home. Sansa, I will never be a Stark. Never be treated like a Stark would be treated. I was just a boy.” He laughed. “I was a hostage living among the Starks. I’m a Greyjoy. Not a Stark. Will never be a Stark.”

“My lord father tried to make you one of us,” she said in a softer voice. “We all tried. Being a Greyjoy does not give you the right to do whatever it takes it win your father over. Abandoning Robb, surely, didn’t help. Killing Bran and Rickon didn't help either.”

“Yes, Sansa, what I did was wrong and unforgivable.”

He looked at her; his emotions unwavering; and saw the coldness in her eyes. The hatred she held so deeply for him.

“Theon,” she began, “if we are to save Winterfell together. The past needs to be buried. I’m the rightful heiress of Winterfell, and you, the rightful heir of The Iron Islands. Ending the feud between Winterfell and The Iron Islands would be best for the people.”

“Sansa,” he said; his voice confused and pleased. “I’m a disgrace. I ruined Winterfell. Destroyed it. To rule Winterfell along with a Stark would be a grave mistake. One that I think will do more harm than good.”

“Yes, I know the risks, but I much rather a kingdom strengthening than weakening.”

“Your brothers!”

“Bran and Rickon are nowhere to be seen, and until they are seen, I’ll manage Winterfell beside you.”

“My lady,” he said, kissing her gloved hand. “This isn’t right. But as the rightful heir of The Iron Islands, I understand the good this union would do for Winterfell and The Iron Islands, and would like to be a part of this.”

“I will let Arya in on this decision.” Sansa smiled, and smoothed her skirt. “It’s unladylike of her to marry Gendry. He’s a bastard.”

“Yes. But Gendry is a fitter ruler than Joffery will ever be. And if words were to get out of the Lannisters’ indecencies, and the illegitimacies of the Regent Queen’s children, Gendry would be the new King.” 

“Theon, I must take my leave now.”

She bobbed a curtsy to him and disappeared in the dark hallways.

_Am I doing the right thing?_

Theon wondered this; his thoughts hidden behind a lighter and confused conflict.

 

 


	13. In The Night: Tyrion and Sansa

The light flickered on in the dark.

Sansa noticed the elegant shadows from the candle across the walls. “My lord,” she began in a soft voice, “would you think me mad if I told you the shadows on the walls remind me of us?” 

“No, my lady, I would never.” Tyrion laughed. “Does the shadows remind you of a beauty trapped in the ugliness that is the wall? Like you and I. You are the lovely lady married off to the ugly imp. Demon monkey, if you must.” His words were mocking, but as he said them, Sansa noticed the painful glints in his eyes. 

Those strange colors of his eyes carried so much pain and suffering in them that she dared not disturb; not too quickly. His eyes — lovely as they were — had _no_ acknowledgement of ever being loved in them. Compassion, though, was always in them, strangely.

“No!” Sansa lifted the candle up, and held it close to him. “You are the candle, my lord, and I am the wall. Your light, gradually, melted the bitterness in me. And for that, I thank you.”

“Sansa, you mustn’t thank me for everything. You are, as much, to be held responsible, for the changes in your life, as I am.”

“But, my lo … Tyrion, my words aren't lies.” _You saved me from living a life of misery and vengeance._ Oh, she do wanted to tell him that, but she wanted to tell him that he is loved first. “Every words I said to you, I truly meant them. You’ve taught me how to find joy in this cruel world. And I need you to know, I thank you for it.”

Tyrion chuckled; his fingers struggling whether to stay intertwined with Sansa’s ones, or to move away. He chose the later; the candle kept on dripping on his fingers. They felt awfully hot, and burnt. “Well, if you truly meant them, then who am I to ignore a lady’s thanks? After all, I am the Knight of Flowers. Pleasure I know. If my lady would like to experience a night truly of wonders, then so should she.”

“Tyrion, please, do not try to mock me.”

“I wasn’t, Sansa. I was offering you what I know best,” he teased her. His eyes glinted with laughter. “You, my lady, were truly pleased when we made love.”

“Tyrion, please, do not say that so loudly.” She sighed. It didn't surprise her that he would bring that up. “The entire of the seven kingdoms may have heard you.”

“Why shouldn't the fucking seven kingdoms hear the declaration that I satisfied my lady wife?” Once again, his words were amusing, but this time, held a small dose of bitterness. “Are you regretting that you laid with me?”

“No, of course not. If I did, my lord, I wouldn’t have let you shared a bed with me. I, do, however, wanted to state that an act of desire can only happen —“

“Once between us. I understand, Sansa, you needn't tell me.”

“No!” She blew the light off from the candle, welcoming the darkness in. “Please, Tyrion, let me finish. An act of desire required love, and I think —“

“We don’t have love between us, and therefore, must establish love. You surprise me, my lady. I never think you were one to need love between this ugly imp and yourself to feel right about making love.”

“Tyrion!” _Please, why are you talking? I do need to say this. Please be quiet._ “You’re taking my words, my lord, and crafting unreal meanings to them. I do not appreciate that.”

“It is, however, what my lady wants, is it not?” It was not a question, but a statement, Sansa sensed. 

“No… yes.” It was awfully dark, and she wished now, she hadn’t blew the light out. But she was glad that her lord husband didn’t notice the heat in her cheeks, the desires in her eyes, and the glow she felt inside of her. “I … I believe that desire can only come from an act from love. And we shared that between us when we made love,” she whispered the last words so quietly that she, oh, so, hoped Tyrion didn't hear. 

_Foolish girl!_ _Why must you make a fool of yourself,_ she scolded herself.

“My lady,” Tyrion began, “I’m afraid I didn't hear that. My hearing isn't as wonderful as it once was.”

Sansa knew he was teasing her.

“I am sorry, my lord. I’ve already said what I needed to say. If you would let me rest now, my lord. I have not felt as tired as I am at the moment.” 

 She faked a yawn, followed by another, and continued by several others to make her point.

“No, Sansa, I will not let you sleep,” Tyrion said; moving closer to her. His hands found themselves between the wonders of her red unkempt hair. One that he was proud that their love making had created. “You need to repeat those words.”

“I am … so sorry.”

 And with that, Sansa kept up with “pretend” sleep act, and ignored Tyrion whenever he tried to get her to talk.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I decided to write this again, because it's a lot of fun, and after tomorrow, I'm finished with this semester. So, yeah! I'll accept requests if you want any.


	14. Fire and Death: Sandor and Sansa

He hated fire.

Fire was death. The flames burned strongly in embers of orange, yellow, and red, calling for death. Fire sang and danced wildly with an air of seduction — almost a whisper of darkness — that was so inviting yet so deadly.

And no matter how hard he tried to deny it, the flames always sucked him in, trapping him in a dark and cold world, burning with the strong scent of death. So rotten and ripe.

Once, he reached to touch it, but as soon as his fingers got closer to it, it burned like he had just walked through a burning building, and soaked himself in the harshness of vinegar. It took him days to recover from it, but when he did, he avoided fire. 

Then, one day, he met her, and everything changed.

She was an enchanting creature of fire. 

She was the beautiful daughter of death. 

She was very intoxicating and dangerous.

She took him on adventures of splendid romance and danger. He always accepted the challenges, and always, found himself sucked in deeper and deeper in a path of despair. He wanted, no, needed, to get away from her, but he was helpless like a fish to the deep seas. She took him into the dark and deep pits of the flames, and left him there; hopeless and fearful.

She only made his fear of fire stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A modern AU rewritten of "Flames and Ice." Sansa is harsh in this one, if you couldn't tell from the theme. She promises him love, that's what Sandor believes, when he is in the wrong, but shows him no feelings in the romantic nature. I wanted to try something different, because to be honest, I write much lighter themes, and happy endings between whatever pairings I choose.


	15. One Last Chance: Jorah and Dany

“Khaleesi,” Ser Jorah said against the harshness of the wind, “I know I am not worthy of your forgiveness, but I hope to earn it in time.” 

The darkness circled around in her purple irises. “Ser Jorah, speak no more. I do not wish to hear anymore,” she said, as harshly, as the bitter seeping through her barrier. To free Ser Jorah, her trusted advisor, of his guilt, was something she would not give to him. He had betrayed her, and she would not recover from that for a very long time.

“Please, Khaleesi, I know I am worthless in your eyes, but hear me when I speak. Your future is dim without Tyrion Lannister’s help. I had travelled to a _filthier_ world than the one we are living in. “

“No more.” She held a hand over her face and signaled to her soldiers to take him away.“Ser Jorah, please take your leave, or you will be escorted out.”

“Please, Khalessi, please.” He struggled to let the words out. “Forming an alliance with the Dornish King does not end well.”

“Throw him out!” 

“Khaleesi.”

The Unsullied took him by the shoulder, and as harshly and tightly as the soldiers’ grip were, he struggled through it all.

“Khaleesi, you must form an alliance with Tyrion Lannister. Choosing to not do that ends badly. Please, I don’t wish to see you dying again.”

She looked at him with uncaring eyes.

As Jorah was being dragged away, he allowed the tears to flow him freely, like the blood that shall be shed shortly from his Khalessi.

If he had not been foolish, she would have listened to him, and would be saved from this death. 

This was his last chance to convince her. _No, this chance shall not be wasted, and my Khalessi, the rightful heir of the iron throne, shall live to see herself crowned as the Queen of the seven kingdoms._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No romance here again. It's hard to sum up a pretty realistic relationship between Jorah and Daenerys. If anyone has an idea about these two, let me know. Or any requests of any characters, romantic or not, let me know. I'll write them. Thanks for reading.


End file.
